Justin's getting back today and I'm a mess. My hands keep shaking and my stomach is clenched so tight that I'm afraid I'm going to be sick. To top it off, I'm so hard I can't bear it. I don't know what he'll do if he rejects me. I don't know what he'll do if he doesn't and he...
Fuck, what was I thinking?
Hiding in the backyard by my favorite rock among the maple trees, I take a deep breath and try not to freak like a total, well, freak. I shouldn't have emailed him. God, it was the most stupidest fucking thing I could have done. Why do I do these things to myself? He's going to hate me. I know it.
I just don't know what to do anymore.
My brother Justin has been gone for a month on a college trip to Europe. He's older than me, smarter, stronger—Pretty much everything I fail at. I can play a great RPG and party every Friday night but I'm never going to be an athlete like Justin or even a scholar. But I don't mind. I'm not competing with him—He's never had anything bad to say about me. No, he's the nicest fucking guy there is and I think I just ruined our entire relationship with one fucked up, drunk email.
I was really drunk last night when I sent it, but I hadn't written the email then. No, when I first wrote those damning words I was sober, horny, and out of my fucking mind with grief. He had left. Not just the house but the entire fucking country. There was an entire continent between me and my brother and I just couldn't fucking handle it. Still. Still, I can't handle it. I don't know when I got this way but it seems to be something unwilling to fade now that it's taken me over.
I never meant to send him the email. It was one of those stupid things you write to get it out of your head and never think about it again. My fantasy. What I want him to do to me. What I've been dreaming about for god only knows how long because I can't remember a time when I didn't want him.
That I sent it to him makes me more of a monster than having lived with the feelings inside for so long. Because now I've tainted him with this sickness in me. If you knew Justin, you'd understand just how terrible a thing that is. He's perfect. Blond hair, blue eyes, broad shoulders and a wide smile. He wasn't made to be tarnished but to shine.
Me, well, I might look really similar to my brother, just shorter and slim to his muscular build but I never had a problem being his shadow. There's a darkness in me. I'm okay with that. It just wasn't ever supposed to touch him.
The words are burned into my retinas; clear, concise plans to destroy everything we are as brothers. How he slips into my bed while I sleep, my body naked, my hole already stretched and oiled for him. His hands would be rough, large as they move over me, down my body while he spoons against my back. I'll wake up but I won't speak—No, that would be too dangerous, speaking at a time like that. But he'll know from the way I breathe, the way I push back against him that a part of me is dying from knowing he's so close yet not inside me.
Hell. I'm way too horny for my life to be about to end.
Biting my lip, I glance around to see just how visible I am to the neighbor's house through the trees and their dividing fence. It's getting late, the sun starting to set. My parents already left for the airport half an hour ago. The city is a long drive and Justin's plane won't get in until late... Fuck, this is ridiculous. I haven't even seen him yet, haven't seen him in a month, I'm worried he's going to hate me, yet I'm so fucking hard.
Groaning, I run my palm down the front of my jeans, pressing against my erection, my hips rocking up for more. God, I should go inside. Just... Just, if I do, I'll go looking for his picture and now is really not the time to be jerking off to my sexy-ass brother's picture. Holding my breath, I slowly unzip and slide my hands down my navel and into my boxers, grasping my hard dick firmly.
I've thought of it so many times, how he'd take me. I think at this point he wouldn't even have to—Just him behind me in the dark whispering in my ear could be enough to get me off. I don't know if it's because it's supposed to be 'wrong' or if it's just because it's Justin—gorgeous, muscular and all sexy—but every time I think of him finally touching me, my body just goes crazy.
My breath coming out in loud, harsh pants, I move my hand down after a few long strokes, probing fingers into my crack. Fuck, I must be losing it, touching myself in the goddamn backyard. It doesn't get much more degenerate than this. Well, besides trying to get my brother to join me.
“Oh, fuck.” Gasping when I find my rim, I spread my legs wider around my jeans, my knees bent up and wide, thighs tense as I wiggle my hips to get a better angle. Precum is wetting the front of my t-shirt where it's resting against my hard flushed tip but I can't care. Need it. God, I need it so bad. Exhaling sharply as my finger slides into my hole, I immediately add a second and start fucking myself on my digits.
Justin's big—Big hands, big biceps, and a thick, long dick I've been dreaming of. There's no way it wouldn't break me and fuck, I want it to. I want him to fuck me so deep, so wide that I won't ever recover. I want him to own me with his cock, take me whenever, however. Just as long as he's doing it to me, I'd be happy.
My passage clenches, my body protesting how narrow and short my fingers are compared to what I really want. Sweat drips down my face and slicks my taut stomach, my breath nearly lost. I lean back against the tree trunk and rock my hips up, driving my fingers deeper into my hole, thrusting again and again while choking back each soft moan. I love the friction of my knuckles in my unlubed passage, love the edge of pain that makes it feel real.
I want it to be real with him. I want it to be rough and raw and so fucking real—Something more powerful than the insanity inside me. His cock, his cum. My brother's seed filling me the way I need it.
“Yes... Fuck, yes,” I whimper, slamming down on my hand, trying to grind in deeper while digging my sneakers into the dirt for leverage. I don't even need to touch my prostate for this, don't need to touch my dick. Just thinking of my big brother wrapped around my back, pushing his thick cock into me in the dark is all I need. Fucking me, telling me he wants me, loves me...
Biting my lip hard, I come, muffling my cry as my cum streams jerking spurts onto the underside of my shirt and drips down my dick.
“Fuck,” I gasp loudly, my body trembling, hole still clenching in aftershock around my fingers. “Fuck.”
God, I'm so fucked up. Ruined my relationship with my bro with one fucking email and my answer is to jerk off while thinking of him. Brilliant.
My cum growing cool against my skin, I slowly extract my fingers from my hole, grunting once they're finally free. I carefully zip up, folding my shirt to keep my jeans from getting jizz all over the material. I want to get up but I'm worried I'm just going to end up on my hands and knees, pants down my thighs and fingers in my hole again while I think about him fucking me.
I would bend over for him. Would get on my knees, spread my legs wide and let him do anything he wanted. Part of me wants him to be gentle, to be as loving as I need him to be to make this crazy finally cool. But another part, the louder part, just wants my brother to take me—Hard, relentless, with a fire that can only match what I need from him.
It doesn't matter. It will never happen—It should never happen. I don't know if he's already read the email or will once the plane lands. Either way, I know he'll never speak to me again.
Groaning, I hunch forward and wrap my arms around my knees. I try to let the fading sunshine fill my senses, night soon approaching. All I can feel is the cold coming to steal my happiness away.
It's going to be so awful. When he yells at me—He'll hate me. He's going to hate me and I don't want to face that. Maybe I can go over Andy's tonight. Maybe I can sleep over and delay this whole fucking mess for at least one night.
God, I'm so fucking stupid. What will mom and dad say? Will Justin tell?
Anxiety is like a nauseating wave in my body, fueling me more thoroughly than my guilt. That I'm getting hard again, too—God, I'm so messed up. I want him to know. Want him to want me and know. But he doesn't and I'm just a colossal idiot with an unbearable crush on my big brother.